


Light Retaliation

by orphan_account



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Alien Romance, Can also be interpreted as Professor Membrane / Alien Reader, Character Death, Commision Work, F/M, Overly serious for Invader Zim per request., Slow Burn, light humor, no beta we die like men, possible happy ending
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-10-10 09:07:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20525483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: "You’re not royalty here," he says.I remember when I was. I still see it falling apart in front of me. The ceiling. The skies. The shields. The crystalline pieces in my hair. I can hear them screaming. I feel only the rush of desperate adrenaline as I am hunted. I feel it creep across my very foreign skin and into my discolored blood. It isn't real anymore. There is nothing left for me but rubble and a burning want to rebuild. There is only a damage that cracks across the shrines of our home-world and through my heart like a shiv. There is only quiet across the plazas, the light of our moons unwavering.I wonder if the foliage has taken our home in my absence. I wonder if the wilderness of Vestia is the royalty, now. I wonder if he loves this Earth as much as I love my dead planet. I wonder if he cares for me even half as much."You are correct." I must have appeared poorly, because his eyes tell me as much. "I apologize."





	1. The Favor

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All and any Invader Zim character names belong to Jhonen Vasquez and Nickelodeon, unless stated an OC which in case belong to the author, 0hHarvey. No copyright infringement is intended. Plagiarism is theft so is prohibited. Do not copy or create a reproduction of this work in any language without express written authorization of the author, 0hHarvey. 
> 
> A/N: Please be aware that this plot is a commissioned work. Original characters are designed and owned by the author. The story itself is a paid work in which the author is directed to write based on a set plot from the buyer. 
> 
> Thank you and please enjoy.
> 
> Professor Membrane x Alien Original Character 
> 
> Warnings: Death, spite, regret, angst, and sexual implications in later chapters.

  
  
"Wake up, vestian _trash_. We need to get you off this planet." I jolt, my eyes suddenly open and attentive.  
  
I am on the floor. The light of the room is throbbing red. My eyes ache, strained and itchy and contaminated. The blood all over has overwhelmed my senses. This place is small. This room is minimal. It is plain and blindingly bright between the flashes of red. A freezing sensation reaches my toes as I waver to rise; I realize that they had briefly met the cold metal of the only exit. I fully turn to look back at where I had entered from, hands slipping between the blood and the slick of the floor as I do so. The emergency lock is in play...a part of my gown is caught in between the doors.  
  
I can faintly smell them on the other side, waiting for me. I can hear them breathing behind the exit. They speak slowly and like animals. Their claws run against the walls in anticipation. I recall that I had barely managed my way here, desperate and primal. I had crawled on all fours before gracelessly dragging myself into this emergency transport. I recall locking myself in before losing consciousness.  
  
Now I can only see an error screen, impending and disparaging as the glow slowly consumes the room. I rip my gown from the doorway to stumble closer to the controls, the proximity sensors slowly protruding a chair from the ship's floor. My limbs tremble and my ankles are weak. I lean against it for leverage, looking at nothing but code that is blatantly nonsensical as it consumes the screens. I stand fully and realize that I am looking at death.  
  
“Panic will only worsen your situation. Calm down. I am trying to figure it out.” The noise in my ear is inconsistent. My head _throbs_ at the bits of static. This female is unknown to me. She is not one of our own. Her accent botches our language. The depth of her voice is drastically foreign, quirky and strained. Perhaps impatient. Is she irken? Vortian?  
  
I take a step back from the holoscreen to further assess my situation. My hands are now dry but still blue with old gore. My nails are chipped at their lengthy edges and several tips are broken from my last encounter. I taste only the offensive and predatory blood of those who attacked me and failed. I feel only pain in my limbs and heart at this invasion…this...betrayal. My own blood seeps into my clothing from the sunken teeth marks that crescent around my shoulder. It pulses and throbs so suddenly that I again nearly collapse.  
  
The outcasts invaded my people and property, somehow now funded and backed by a foreign militia with technology that rivals our own. They attacked us on a sacred day of celebration. They killed the civilians in their city streets. The buildings of our home-world are ablaze and the sky reflects only the blue of the fire. It smells only of death and smoke beyond these walls. I seat myself in the chair, a wave of nausea stirring me.  
  
My people are dead or in chains. The hierarchy is slaughtered. Our Light is brutally impaled into her throne and I am the last of her chosen Favors to inherit this manhunt. This sadistic mission to end our very government and society has overthrown us with both familiar and unknown assailants. The ships do not look familiar to my studies.  
  
“How did you obtain access to this wave?” My voice is still level. It is of the utmost importance that it stay that way regardless of how dire the situation. I must be calm and regal. I must maintain.  
  
And yet all I can truly do is sit in this transport, cornered and futile. Stranded with a voice I do not recognize.  
  
“In a similar fashion to your enemy. Though this channel was far more secure, it was _not_ a challenge,” the static hums as she speaks. I can hear a slight typing of sorts in her background. It is fast...unwavering.  
  
“And what is your gain in assisting me with the transport?” I can see the holoscreen flickering as she tampers. She is inputting a flight plan and identifying the error engulfing the screen simultaneously.  
  
“It’s cute how you refrain from calling it an escape pod. Perhaps in denial that you’re _running _with your tail between your legs? It does not surprise me that a vestian would cower from battle.” A needless and sadistic jab at my pride. Something my people do not prioritize in moments such as these. A heavy indication that she is irken.  
  
“What is your purpose here? What do you know?” I ask as though I still have a power behind me. I ask as though I am still a Favor of Our Light. But I must maintain. If only to keep my sanity.  
  
“More than you, clearly. I intend to direct you to a safe location for refuge. Guaranteed safety on a planet with a name that none within any alliance know. I am offering you complete safety outside of a cell, hidden among another kind. Not only does your survival disadvantage the Irken Tallest, as you were to be a trophy for experimentation, but I anticipate a favor in return.” She says it so easily, as though she did not divulge that the irken Armada has betrayed my kind despite a treaty that had spanned over two millennia. A treaty that had built upon both societies and decimated threats through the ages. A treaty that allowed both races to thrive.  
  
“The ships and insignias do not resemble the Irken Armada."  
  
“That is because they are not. They are Chronium,” she says. I can still see her typing away on the holoscreen from her unknown location. Likely far away, out of reach.  
  
“Chronia was invaded by The Tallest during their last Operation. A planet targeted during The Great Assigning. They are outsourcing.” It was one of their more brilliant methods, as rare as it is to see a race left alive under irken rule. Perhaps they allow the occasional mining planet. In this case, most likely a militia planet.  
  
“Essentially.”  
  
“Do you know the reason behind this breach of treaty?” I must inquire. It was too obtuse. My hands are shaking. I halt the action.  
  
“The Tallest...are not the most intelligent of leaders. They only recently discovered your physical capabilities and genetics when propositioned by your outcasts. It took little persuading once they realized that selectively duplicating your genetics into irken smeet would allow for limitless, conscious, biological manipulation."  
  
She pauses, but I do not respond. I must maintain my image. She cannot know my agony. She cannot have more information than she already does. I cannot trust her. I could not even trust my own kind.  
  
"It is shameful to realize that prior Tallest Miyuki and Spork were far superior in both physical power and mental capacity. Their untimely end is likely the downfall of our empire.” I can hear the anger in her voice that wavers with her tone. The depravity and rage that jostle her words and accent invoke something sinister. I can sense her desire for vengeance. For independent conquest. And I feel it. I feel that rage at the edge of my vision. I feel it bubble in my chest like fire. My nails sink deep into my palms. I want to bare my teeth.  
  
“So you are irken.” There is a brief silence at my observation. I maintain.  
  
“I am.”  
  
“And they intend to duplicate my genetics into their clones, I assume for the purpose of improved intelligence collection for Invaders?”  
  
She croaks a strained, despicable laugh. It is high-pitched and fractured. It is ghastly and shrill.  
  
“The first task of an _Invader_ is to blend into the populous of the world they intend to overthrow. Imagine the rate of success if any Invader can willingly manipulate their genetic code to mimic the appearance and biology of their _victims_. Then, simply revert their DNA back once their mission is completed,” she speaks the words as through awe-struck. Like the reality of it were too good to be true. As though this was something she also desired.  
  
It sets an unease in me, more than before. It is ugly to know that the rare gift of our people’s upper echelons could be used for something as boorish and depraved as invading a lowly planet. Her kind take so much pride in all the wrong things.  
  
"What of my peers?"  
  
"To my knowledge, they are all dead. It is difficult to capture creatures that _throw_ themselves in front of their leader. Most were killed in the throne room when they harpooned your queen. Your survival is merely luck, but also the reason they are hunting you."  
  
I remember that they killed everyone in the throne room. Their corpses were displayed like trophies. Ra'ashi was impaled standing, her body on its knees, her hands open at her sides like some offering. Her eyes were lifeless, open to the sky. Na'al was decapitated and hung at the entrance, his body upside down from the trees. Tiv'i had burns from weaponry mutilating her face, and she was strung in the overgrowth of the gardens. The Daughter of Our Light was skinned and bound to the arches of the city courtyard. Our princess was tortured and skinned. The process was live on the screens of the city walls.  
  
“Do they not realize the coming retaliation of the Minor Families on our several hundred other planets? They will not abandon a Favor. I am worth more to them then the Irken Treaty and Armada.” I must not sound bothered. I will not waver. I must not bend to their animosity. I cannot-  
  
“Their communications indicate that they are desperate to take you. To obtain another of your kind would be nearly impossible. All of their other intended targets were killed. Their primary goal was a failure because their pride got in the way of their mission. You are a last resort, apparently.”  
  
I would be dead or taken had they come on any other day. Had I not been in the city's underbelly. Had today not been my christening. And yet...our royal lineage was cut short as a result. Our Light drowned in her own blood, a spear through her throat the final blow. Her only daughter bled endlessly. Her youth ripped from her body like the peel of fruit. Her screams echo in my mind. It should have been me.  
  
I hear the nearly-silent hum of the transport initiate. I hear the air locks set into place with a hiss. The final door lock engages behind me. The scent of the vile creatures behind the door is still prominent. I take solace in the fact that the irken intends to truly help me. I find something akin to peace as the systems begin navigation at my fingertips.  
  
“You now have two options. Allow me to direct your pod to a planet _Urth_ in exchange for a single favor, or try an alternative method of escape. This would require you to leave the pod and encounter the fifteen outcasts that have been waiting for you behind those doors. They uploaded a virus into all escape pods and civilian transports within a five mile radius. You will have no chance.”  
  
I realize now that she has manipulated the situation. Perhaps the gash in my temple has fogged the severity of my situation. Perhaps the loss of blood has left me inattentive. Yet I keep assessing my options. Leaving this transport is not an option. If I proceed with this...irken defector...then I am to owe her something that is likely distasteful. Or perhaps this is all subterfuge. Perhaps this is just another way to die.  
  
“What is this favor?” I don’t think it matters, at this point.  
  
“Does it really matter, _Det'ra_?” I can feel my eyes narrow and correct the behavior. Such an informal way to refer to me has left a certain taste in my mouth. Something stronger than the blood.  
  
“Then I ask, in exchange for your favor, to direct me to this planet Urth, Invader…?”  
  
The transport leaves the dock. I can hear the ravaging panic behind the doors, growing farther and farther as we make distance.  
  
"Tak." She laughs, cracking and strained. "_Invader_ Tak."

* * *

End Chapter One.


	2. Arrogant

“So this...inept society is selectively ruled by a multitude of governments that refuse to cooperate with one another?”

“Yes.”

“There is only a single noted human capable of producing technology on our level?”

“Correct.”

“And you are instructing me to kill both him and his offspring?”

“Correct.”

This tiny creature is clearly delusional. Her aggression is backed by some kind of deep trauma. Her desires are malicious and lack empathy and consideration. Like the rest of her despicable race, she is a monster. She instructs me to murder the only male hat this planet can rely on for progression and technological success due to her own failures. She asks me to kill alien youths.

“You realize my people are not apt in senseless murder? This boorish task is not one for a female vestian, much less a Favor-”

“Yes, yes, yes, Favor of The Light - _whatever_. But I’m not _asking_. It is not a _suggestion_. Any resistance will result in the immediate disclosure of your location to The Tallest.”

Such a vacant and ugly little predator. It has been hours of me sitting in this pod, drifting forward through space, listening to her bloodthirsty and depraved ravings. Plans that I could not possibly have any consideration towards.

“Am I to assume that these people...this _Scientific_ _leader_....is preventing your from successfully invading this planet?”

“It is far more complex of an issue that prevents me from immediate success. The Urthlings are hardly capable of speech much less emotion or relevant thought. You shouldn't feel terribly about ending their _pathetic_ lives.”

“Then why are you incapable of this task?” I continue to grow suspicious. She had the nature of a true invader. Her talents are unquestionable. Yet...she requires assistance.

“I am easily identifiable. My technology is limited as well. They are not so primitive that they could not disadvantage me in rare circumstances." She sounds agitated. I can hear her gritting her teeth in the communicator. "It is also noteworthy that they are assisted by the technology of an incompetent Irken outcast."

“I comprehend. Regardless, you will inform me once the Minor Families restore order?” She is not to be trusted.

“I have internally damaged the communicators on your transport. You cannot send or receive any means of correspondence unless it goes through me. As soon as you fulfill your purpose, I will inform your "minor families" of your whereabouts.” She lies.

“Then we have a fair exchange.” She will expose me to The Tallest the moment the humans are dead.

“I am directing you to one of the primary residences of Urth’s most esteemed minds. The male will be able to not only understand your existence and situation, but it should be able to assist you until you are able to infiltrate its nest and remove the children. You are a spy among your kind. I imagine you can manipulate him easily.”

“Perhaps.” I will play her game.

“I’ve already uploaded nine of their languages to your translator. That should be all you require.”

“You speak as though they have more.”

“They have hundreds.”

“Among a single race?”

“They cannot even communicate among themselves. They are primitive. I recommend you review all the data I have uploaded on their history and races. There is limited imagery, but what matters is your understanding. You will be flying for some time, after all."

An understatement. I will be flying for five cycles. Alone. In this space. The screen displays the map in a condensed section, but the distance is vast. I wonder if I can force hibernation in the sanitization unit. I wonder if the people of this foreign place can help me. I wonder if this scientist she speaks of will be able to fix these communicators. I wonder if our princess suffered as terribly as her screams indicated.

"It is distant," I say. If only to just say anything.

"Yes. And it would be a shame for you to die on that nasty rock." Her coy words frustrate me. I remove my communicator.

Perhaps I should...on this nasty rock.

* * *

I wake. Stiff. Sanitized. Disoriented and in pain. I have been in forced hibernation for enough time that my limbs are static. My plan is at the forefront of my thoughts, nonetheless. I wake with purpose and intention. I rouse with desire and motivation. I stand feeling clean and aching.

I did not dream. I did not want to.

But the view of this planet is truly something astonishing. The colors are vast and vibrant. The light of the green across its land masses is intense and full. It is vivid and wild, encased by coils of white and vapor. The brown is warm and so unnatural to me. The blue is different from the blue I know. Their sun is so distant, being red and orange and yellow. I have read of these varying stars and yet had never seen anything beyond my homeworld before now. It is different. It is overwhelming.

"Okay." I breathe. I close my eyes. The light of their sun burns them relentlessly. I have read that their moons are like our own. But there is little written about their sun. I feel little confidence that my skin will not catch flame and that I will not suffer. I beg that I will not die screaming as my people did.

I have to open my eyes. I have to ensure this. Whatever this planet offers me I must accept it with gratitude. I have nothing else. I must maintain.

* * *

It is so easily done. It is so simple that I am at the edge of disbelief. The ship is cloaked and it lands. There was no interstellar security. Nothing in their atmosphere defended their planet. A very small eye display rises from the control panel. I attach it to my temple with ease and watch as data screens across my eyes. The air that floods into the ship as the doors slide apart is heavy. My lungs are weak against it and a cough strains my throat at the pressure. I walk out with no hesitation. I am eager to leave that singular space, only to be surrounded by vertical planks of wood at hardly any distance. The sky is dark, which is ideal for my eyes and skin. Their sun is harsh, but this is an acceptable temperature at this time of their rotation.

My hud tells me it is the third hour of their latest rotation. Three into their morning.

There is a wind. The feeling in my hair is relieving. I hear the tiny clicks of my accessories as the breeze runs through me. I step off the slight dock that protrudes from the hatch. The soil is cold and damp. The trimmed vegetation is soft and familiar. I read about this. Grass. This is a yard. A piece of stagnant land used for food growth or entertainment. It rests behind a tall structure. Likely the home that I am supposed to infiltrate.

It is ugly. The construction of most of this planet is ugly. Humans tend to be ugly. Irkens are ugly. Everything seems ugly.

"_You are trespassing on private property! Please identify yourself! Failure to provide a valid state-certified identification card will result in immediate removal from the premises!_"

A security system of some kind speaks to me in English. It is a small robotic creation with smooth edges and a smile that illuminates as it speaks. It threatens me with electricity confined to independent probes. It swivels around on a single wheel and barely comes to the joint in my leg. It keeps a distance and shifts back and forth, never halting.

"Are you capable of independent thought?" I ask it out of curiosity in its own language. It is an endearing little mechanism. It speaks so specifically and points the sparking device more accurately in my direction.

"_Please provide a state-certified identification card! Failure to do so will result in immediate removal from the premises!_"

It smiles, still. The weapon sparks again. The noise hurts my ears. I flatten them to muffle the sounds. It is not capable of independent thought.

"Please alert your creator of my presence." I look to a doorway towards movement. It is transparent, like thin glass. It slides away silently. A human male stands there, his eyes and face concealed. But I can feel him watching me. I can hear him running scans. His heart rate is so loud that I can take notice at such a great distance. He smells of trepidation and defensiveness. He looks like his pictures. And yet his height astounds me in person. Their species is capable of so many varying sizes. They each look so different. They all have different faces and features. Not one looks precisely the same. But most of the humans I have researched look so..._soft_. Professor Membrane, scientific savior of the feeble human race, does not.

"I'm already aware," his words seem like an afterthought. He is assessing me. His tone is so specific and articulate to his language. My hud is compiling data. Height. Weight. Race. Age. It compares it to every flagged file downloaded by Tak. It compares it to all the files of important humans I have stored in my memory drive. His children cross my screen before it finally blanks. I have no documentation of his face beyond his accessories.

"Are you the most intelligent human on this planet?" I take a step forward. My hands come together at my front gently, insinuating I am not a threat. The air is still cool. The house is still dark. I wonder how well they can see? Can he see me at all? I read that humans have no vision at night.

"So far," he says. He sounds arrogant.

"Then this is ideal. I require an example of the human genome." So do I. 

* * *

End Chapter Two.


End file.
